Winter Eyes, Winter Heart
by Dark Lassie
Summary: **FINISHED 2/9/02** Sequel to 'Games', read that first. The story is mainly to do with Lucius and Severus, but it's told mainly from Harry's point of view. Please R&R!!
1. Bullshit

**WINTER EYES, WINTER HEART**

Chapter One

A/N: Ok, this is the sequel to Games, so if you haven't read that then do because otherwise you may not understand parts of this. It isn't very long, but please give me reviews for that as well because I don't have very many!

*****

The Boy Who Lived was tired. He was so tired that he could not find the words to describe it, the utter weariness that gnawed at his body, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness if he so much as moved, the depression, the sniping that inevitably deteriorated into yelling, the yelling that invariably deteriorated into tears.

The reason for his exhaustion was simply sleep deprivation. But it was on a scale much more extreme than in most: Harry had not slept at all for the best part of a month. And already it was breakfast time.

The reason for his sleep deprivation was the Order of the Phoenix. Curse the Order. _Of course, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, he can go without any sleep at all, he's a wizard, a good wizard, yes, and he's our bait, if you will, our little temptation for You-Know-Who, our little worm on the hook. You have to admit, though, he doesn't look very impressive, in fact he almost looks evil, with those massive circles around his eyes, you'd think he _needs_ the sleep, silly boy … _

Harry swore bitterly at the Order as he yanked on his robes, half an hour after he had got to bed. _Stupid fucking_ … he sighed. He could not swear at them … they didn't know how tired he was. And they certainly weren't stupid – Dumbledore was one of the cleverest people he knew. _But then, Dumbledore doesn't know what you do on your nights off._

Harry entered the Great Hall in trepidation, aware that he was a few minutes late and dreading the possibility of everyone turning, watching him. Thankfully, however, the prospect of pains au chocolat for breakfast had drawn everyone's mouths firmly down to the table, and nobody even glanced up as Harry passed them.

He sat down between Ron and Hermione, his usual place, and they smiled at him warmly. _They don't know, either_. _They think I slept the night before last._ His eyes suddenly flicked to the Slytherin table. _Ah, Draco …_

Draco returned his gaze briefly, eyes softening for an almost imperceptibly short moment, flaring, wanting, yearning, then hardening again and looking away. Harry's heart sprang, flipped, throbbed until he told it firmly to still, when it lay, pulsating in his chest. _Draco …_

_Harry …_ he could see the word in Draco's eyes as he held that expression steady and calm in his mind. _I want you … now …_

Harry jerked his head away and tried to construct some semblance of a conversation with Ron and Hermione. Neither seemed particularly interested, however – Hermione had received an owl yesterday informing her that Viktor Krum had been killed in a Quidditch match. Ron was mourning with her, trying to convince himself that he _had_ spoken to Viktor personally, yes, he would say that he had bonded with him, that it was a great loss and he would miss Viktor.

Not great material for distracting Harry from Draco.

Eventually Harry gave over to staring into space, lifting sawn pieces of springy egg to his lips, caressing it, trying desperately to believe that it was Draco's mouth, that the two were embracing … _Draco …_

'Are you all right, Harry?' Seamus Finnigan peered into Harry's face curiously. 'You've been thinkin' about eating that there piece of egg for like half a minute.'

'Oh … erm … no, I'm fine, Seamus … I'm just thinking about … Quidditch … Krum and everything … and our next match.'

'Mmm.' The half-hearted, _I don't really understand you but I'll pretend I do because you're _Harry Potter, _the _Boy Who Lived_, and there's no way I'm acting stupid in front of you _look.

Harry gave up. Nobody treated him normally any more, it was as if there was a glass case around him, crystal, unbreakable, holy almost, and in that case stood the most amazing wizard in the world. Sure, he was only seventeen, but what was age to someone like him? Emotional maturity … bullshit. 

Seventeen. Enough to massacre, enough to snatch away lives like a little sweet, they thought it was fun for him, a fun gun, a plaything, that the blackness of death was a wall he stood against, kicked, taunted and tormented, sent people over and across and through and around and pulled them back again, _Crucio,_ torturing, bittersweet lust for power raging, needing to kill, _Avada Kedav – ah, almost had you fooled …_

Bullshit.

Draco …

A crash, a sudden grate of harsh wood and metal, slam, bang, cool and crisp and snappy, and Harry knew it was Lucius Malfoy standing in the Hall, glaring at Dumbledore, but following his gaze it was not Dumbledore he looked at, but Severus Snape, and Severus Snape looked …

Scared.

Harry had become acquainted enough with Snape through the Phoenix to understand his faults and become able to respect him. And he knew that when Severus Snape was scared, something was very, very wrong.

Lucius Malfoy began his ascent to the front of the Hall, legs sliding through the air, hundreds of pairs of eyes drawn, moving in perfect time, swaying legs, steps echoing on the unforgiving floor which remembered him, grey eyes … winter.

Snape was cowering almost by now, Harry's eyes the only ones noticing as the Potions Master's eyes flickered wildly, looking for escape, trying to hide in this vast room where were assembled thousands of students trained to be alert, to be able to predict what their opponent was going to do next. But now they seemed blind, only drawn by this man who walked like an angel and whose body swayed like the Slytherin serpent. 

Harry's breath hissed out, his eyes straining to look at Lucius, wanting to believe this was a snake, to converse with it as if it did not have proper revengeful carnal lusts, as an animal. At first Harry did not allow himself, kept his eyes on Snape. But he knew that this man was a Death Eater, he must be on his guard, and so soon he too turned to watch Lucius.

When Lucius reached Dumbledore and leaned down to speak with him, Harry allowed his eyes to return to Snape's place. He was gone. Somehow, in the space of twenty seconds, the Potions Master had disappeared silently into the misty air of the castle.

'Malfoys,' he murmured, thinking hard. He had never seen Lucius Malfoy and Snape together in the same room, had never seen them meet or talk. But they evidently knew each other, and evidently things were not right between them. Not at all right.

And with the final battle coming up, any strange relationships between members of the Order and Death Eaters could not be good.

*****

After gulping down his lunch and running, stressed and harassed, a worried angel, Harry went to his usual lunchtime Order meeting. The main topic of conversation was, of course, the arrival of the Death Eater at the castle. But the main decision was, of course, by natural default and order, left to Harry.

'It's up to you, Harry, tell him to leave if you want.'

'He's a spy, Harry, he should be forced out.'

'Harry, it may not be good to sour relations with Voldemort now, let him stay …'

'He's trying to sneak around the castle, finding out our best defence spots, get him out!'

Harry stood up, shoved his chair backwards and slammed his hand down in thunderous annoyance, God in the fury of the Flood, and they knew it, awed scared looks in their eyes. 'They know the castle anyway. Lucius went to school here. So did most of the other Death Eaters. Let him stay; if he does anything stupid … and I mean anything, he'll leave. You have my word.'

And the meeting was still again. _Ah, Harry, once more you've calmed the Order with your words of balm, smooth, clever and thought out, Harry, you truly are your father's son, Harry, so intelligent, such a good leader, Harry Potter, we will worship you …_

Abruptly Harry walked out of the meeting. He kept walking, battled the flow of the students on their way to lessons, dodged Ron and Hermione as they tried to persuade him to go to Potions with them, and as much as Harry knew he should be there, that he should calculate Snape's countenance and watch him closely … it was not impossible that he was betraying them, although Harry doubted it, as much as he knew he should attend his lessons, he did not.

Soon the corridors emptied, the lessons quieted, and the paintings started up their chatter, a sure sign that there was no one about, for the paintings clung to the wall, and walls have ears, as sure as the sun rises in the east, walls at Hogwarts had ears.

Harry found a secluded corner, a dead end in the maze that was his school, and sunk gratefully down to the floor, slinging his bag away from him in disgust. The bastards. Worship. Bullshit.

As he sat in anger, he heard quick footsteps, rhythmic, a Slytherin dance, Lucius Malfoy, bullfight, paso doble, strong face and contained anger. Without another thought Harry stood. It was time to remind Lucius that he was here on Harry's will, on God's will, Harry the God, angel of mercy, God …

'Lucius.'

The Serpent slowed, smiled his smarmy smile. _A true Slytherin, to the core. Winter eyes, winter heart._ _Yeux d'hiver, coeur d'hiver._ 'Harry Potter. Still here?'

'Still here.'

'Aren't you supposed to be in lessons, Harry?'

Harry shrugged. Lucius may be able to get one over on him here, but nowhere else. They were on his turf. 'Probably.'

'Which lesson, Harry?' It was a Do or Die command, and Harry would not have tolerated it if it weren't for the fact that he had Potions, Potions with Professor Snape, Severus Snape, Snape and Lucius …

'Potions.'

Triumph, certainly. It made sense: Snape was scared of Lucius; there was a conquest here. Greed. Lucius wanted to defeat Snape again. Anger. Probably some wrong Lucius believed Snape had done him.

But softness? No … Harry would not have thought it, until he saw Lucius' eyelids crease as he thought of Snape. A suspicion began to grow.

'I will accompany you back to your lesson, Potter.'

'No, Lucius, it's all right …'

'I cannot abide the possibility of you getting … lost … on your way. Come with me.' And he strode off, powerful limbs now thirsty for prey, fists clenching, and suddenly Harry wanted to hurry, to protect Snape, for it was certain that Lucius had no good intentions … winter.

Draco … Draco would be in Potions. And Harry walked faster. Lucius … Draco's father … still, Harry had no reason to like him, Draco himself hated his father. The other night, as they lay together, Draco had sworn to Harry that in the final battle, he would kill Lucius. The steadfastness and cold determination had chilled Harry, and he shuddered slightly as he remembered the look on Draco's face. 'I _will_ kill my father, Harry.'

'Lucius.' He waited until he was sure the man was listening, then continued. 'You are only being allowed to remain here on the provision that you behave. You _will not_ stay if I feel you are not inspiring confidence. Is that understood?'

Harry glimpsed a slightly surprised look on Lucius' pale face at this outburst, and suddenly he saw why they fear him, fear him for his ability to seem like a child and then suddenly to talk as an experienced Battle Mage … 

'Yes, Mr Potter, I understand.' And Lucius walked on.

Harry decided that he should go into the classroom first, so that he could be present when Lucius and Severus first locked eyes, first exchanged words. So when they reached the door he pushed ahead, hand under his robes, grasping his wand, threatening, communicating.

Snape looked utterly delighted that Harry was late. 'Mr Potter,' he sneered. 'How nice of you to …' He froze, and the sardonic expression on his face slowly shifted into one of absolute horror as he caught sight of Lucius. 'Malfoy,' he snarled.

'Hello again, Severus,' Lucius replied pleasant, but Harry stiffened at the falseness of the voice, the threatening undertone, _I'm here to kill you, Severus, in front of the students or not, if only Harry here will get out of the way …_

Harry kept himself between the two men, adamant that they should not get anywhere near each other. Glancing at Draco, he saw Severus' fury reflected in his lover's face … _I will kill my father,_ and what a perfect opportunity, while Daddy is here, in the home of the Order, and his son is protected.

'Sit down, Harry … Severus and I need to have a little chat.'

'I don't think you should be ordering _my_ students about, Lucius,' Snape said in a deathly quiet voice, one that would have sounded nasty had it been directed at anyone else, but here it was feeble, and the students knew it; they glanced at him, puzzled.

'I agree, Lucius,' Harry added, bringing their earlier conversation into play. 'You _really _wouldn't want to get off to a bad start here, would you?'

Snape looked slightly relieved at Harry's defending him, stronger, _help me_, and then said: 'Go away, Malfoy.'

Lucius hesitated, a look of pure loathing on his face, then decided he was outnumbered, spun and walked away. 

Snape looked immensely grateful, his voice hoarse now, 'Sit down, Harry.'

This was the first time he had called Harry by his first name in public, and Harry warmed to it, smiled reassuringly, trusted Snape like he had never trusted him completely before. Snape hated a Death Eater, he hated everything they stood for, _Avada Kedav – ah, what's the point, I hate it, it's all bullshit._

At the end of the lesson, Snape approached Harry, face angry, but Harry knew this was just an act, that this was important. Much as he wanted to follow Draco. 'Harry, I need you to do a detention tonight. Don't ask me why, please, just come to the classroom after dinner.'

'Lucius,' Harry murmured. It was not really supposed to be a guess for the reason of this detention, but somehow it came out a lot like that.

Snape nodded, and then swallowed. 'Straight after supper, Potter. Don't be late … please.'

Another reassuring smile … but intrigue inside, for Severus had never sounded so frightened, so in need of comfort and love … love. Lucius had looked as if he loved him. Was the feeling requited? Was that why Severus looked scared; did he know that a relationship with a Death Eater could never be pursued? Or was it something stranger, something dark and deep and unapproachable? Was it, by chance, anything to do with … the Game?

Draco had played the Game, last year … he never spoke of it now, but Harry knew roughly what it was, and he had heard something of its history. Who had Draco played with? Blaise Zabini, that was it, that dark-haired Slytherin, mysterious eyes … very like Snape might once have been, in fact.

Harry began to look forward with time-chewing curiosity to his detention.

*****

At supper, Harry bolted down his food, ignoring surprised questions from Ron and Hermione … they didn't need to know, they probably wouldn't want to know … and left the Great Hall a few minutes after he saw Snape go. Lucius was not dining in the Hall that evening, claiming fatigue, and Harry could see the frustration and fear in Snape at not knowing where the man was … _he could jump out at any moment, force me into anything, he has all the Dark powers at his disposal_ … Harry could almost hear Snape's thoughts.

He almost ran to the dungeons, stomach tightening as the possibilities of what Lucius might do raced through his mind. He could rob, he could summon his flock … he could _kill_. Harry had lost friends before … Dean Thomas had been killed in a raid from the Death Eaters a couple of years back … not that he thought of Snape as a friend. Hell, he still thought of him as Snape … but still, he wouldn't like to lose him to Lucius, especially when there was sufficient proof that it would be his fault. He had let Lucius stay, after all … perhaps it was a mistake? _Snape, please be alive, please be all right …_

Snape was in his classroom, sitting at his desk, _marking work_. A poor reward for Harry, to see the man simply staring at papers, pen in hand … no, not pen in hand. He was simply staring, not doing work at all. Harry cleared his throat, and Snape flinched, jerked his head upwards, eyes wild. Then he relaxed. 'Harry.'

'What the fuck did he do to you?' Harry demanded, unable to keep his curiosity under control and anger growing at Lucius for doing this to the man whom he believed to be one of the bravest in the school.

Snape closed his eyes for a second, and then reopened them, the cold mask in place, desperately trying to fool Harry that the past was forgotten … but Harry could make out one word, riding clearly on the surf of that mask … _bullshit._

'I think, in consideration of the relationship between you and Mr Malfoy, that you would do better not to know.'

_How very ambiguous._ Which Malfoy did he mean? Draco … did he know? Or was he simply referring to Harry's hatred of Lucius? 'Professor, do you mean Lucius or … his son?'

'Draco.'

It was Harry's turn to close his eyes. 'You know.'

'Yes, I know, Harry, it's difficult not to see, taking into account my … intimate knowledge of Malfoys. Anyway, I have some questions for you to do, we might as well pretend that you are on detention.' He handed Harry a sheet of paper, and motioned him to the desk nearest his own.

Damn. He wasn't going to spill. How frustrating. But he knew better than to test Snape's patience; he bent his head and began on the questions. Snape took a pen and began to actually mark, apparently satisfied with his security.

Suddenly there was a noise at the door. Both teacher and pupil stood up quickly, but this time there was no relaxing. For standing in the entrance to the classroom was the very person both Harry and Snape least wanted to see, the Slytherin figure that Snape feared so much.

Lucius Malfoy.

*****

A/N: Ok, what do you think? Cliffhanger? Sorry if it is, but I do my best. Please review!


	2. Desired Angry Death

A/N: OK, I didn't get as many reviews as I would have liked for the last chapter (what an understatement), but I'm going to carry on anyway because I like this story. Please review, because I like reviews, and if you want to give me constructive criticism, just do it, for Christ's sake, because that's the point of the review.

*****

WINTER EYES, WINTER HEART

Chapter 2

Harry and Snape regarded Lucius for a very long time, and the man did nothing to alleviate their fears as he smiled back with obvious anticipation. 'May I have a word, Severus?' he asked pleasantly.

'What do you want?' Snape growled, although Harry easily caught the terror in his voice.

'Unfinished business,' Lucius stated shortly. 'Might we go into your office?'

'No. I have a detention, and I'm not taking the risk of Potter upsetting a cauldron or something equally stupid.'

Harry was not offended, and somewhat relieved that Snape had remembered to call him 'Potter,' but was still extremely concerned, and shifted slightly until he was standing between the two men.

'Out of my way, Harry,' Lucius commanded, evidently straining to keep his voice light. 'I'm not going to eat him, you know.'

'That's not what I'm afraid of,' Harry said quietly, 'and you know it.'

'Oh, for God's sake!' Lucius exclaimed, his face surprised but his eyes worried and angry. 'Severus and I are old friends, Harry, but we can't just talk about anything in front of you. We need a little privacy.'

'If you're old friends,' Harry said, a false frown creasing his forehead, 'then why does he not look totally … anxious to talk to you?' This was true; Snape was looking less happy by the second. 

_Harry … get rid of him, make him go away._

Of course! 'I might also remind you, Lucius,' Harry began, 'that by threatening people, or even implying that you might consider thinking about threatening people, you're well on your way to being thrown out of the castle. And I am quite able to do it …'

'Frankly, Harry, I no longer care,' Lucius said firmly, as if he were speaking to a ten-year-old. 'I _will_ speak with Severus, as I mean him no harm, and I haven't done anything yet that could justly provoke my expulsion from Hogwarts. We can talk in here, Severus.' He walked slowly to Snape's office, his fingers trailing along the wall in a way that Harry could only interpret as … seductive … and then turned and stood in the doorway, framed by the glow of the candles inside. _Slytherin Angel,_ Harry thought. Then Lucius turned and went into the office, and the illusion was gone.

Harry moved closer to Snape, holding a finger to his lips. 'I could fetch Dumbledore,' he said in a low voice.

Snape shook his head, and jerked his head at the door to his office. 'He'll come back; he'll never leave me alone. I have to face him, someday. We're fighting against him, I can't afford to be afraid of him.' He turned, and took a few deep breaths. 

Harry watched, anguished that he could not help Snape with this, that Lucius' danger went deeper than a simple Avada Kedavra. 

_Slytherin serpent versus cowering meerkat, round one._

Resigned, he turned his attention back to the questions Snape had set him, but suddenly his attention was distracted again when he heard a muffled thump from inside the office. A muffled thump that could quite easily be mistaken for a body hitting a piece of furniture.

_Ah. Slight complications._

Harry sat for a few seconds, ears pricked, waiting to see if there would be any more. He was not kept waiting long. There was another thump, louder this time, a shout and a cry of agony. 

_Shit_.

A shoved back stool, a quick flash of feet, and Harry was standing outside the office door, his heart thumping. He could hear a hissing voice, blending eerily with the hiss from a cauldron on the stove. _Potions is a Slytherin subject, after all_.

'Severus … too far … our Master … the Game, Severus …'

Harry couldn't hear the whole of the conversation, but the parts he could make out did not bode well. But his suspicions were confirmed. This was something to do with the Game.

There were more cries, some angry and some terribly afraid and painful. Harry shuddered when there was an unmistakeable cracking of bone, and his hand moved involuntarily towards the door handle. But he jerked it away again as he felt the heat of magic in the lock – evidently Lucius had already considered that Harry might interfere. And he wanted to beat Severus up good and proper.

After about ten minutes of flinching at every noise, Harry was rewarded with the sound of the door being unlocked. He jumped aside just as the Serpent strode from the office, his white shirt and his hands smeared with blood. As Harry had expected, he did not look hurt at all.

'He's all yours, Potter,' Lucius snarled as he passed him. 'I'm going to see Draco, then I'm leaving. So don't bother kicking me out.'

Harry forced his eyes to stay on this unpleasant sight until he was totally gone, and then turned and almost ran into Snape's office. He had to clap his hands over his mouth to keep from gagging. 

_Shit, shit, shit!_

The teacher was prostrated on the floor, lying quite still. Harry bent down and checked his pulse, which mercifully was still there, before turning Snape over onto his back and ticking off the injuries with the noises he had heard.

Snape's wrist was broken, which could possibly be seen as being a good thing, considering what Harry had been dreading. His robes were badly torn, and he had a very long cut stretching from his shoulder down to his waist - obviously, Lucius had a policy of carrying a knife around with him. Various other abrasions and bruises completed the image of a broken man.

_The bastard, no wonder Draco's going to kill him, he deserves it, he deserves the pain of the Mark, he deserves everything bad that's ever happened to him if he can do this to Snape._

Harry performed the few healing charms he knew, which, luckily, were enough to bring Snape back to consciousness. He stirred, and then opened his eyes and gazed sleepily at Harry. 'Is … he …'

'Gone?' finished Harry.

Snape made a slight sound, which Harry interpreted as a 'yes.'

'Yeah, he's gone. Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?'

'No … potions … third shelf … left … blue bottle … one measure … soon …'

Harry nodded quickly and darted across the room into Snape's stores. He easily found the potion the teacher had mentioned, and, in between marvelling at how good the man's memory was, even when he was injured, gave Snape a measure of the blue liquid.

Almost immediately Snape sat up, rubbing his head. 'That's better … only lasts an hour or so, though … then I'll go to Pomfrey.'

Harry shook his head in amazement. 'My God,' he murmured, and then added cautiously: 'Tell me what happened … please.'

Snape nodded slightly, as if he knew now that he had to tell someone about his and Lucius' relationship. 'I'm not sure if Draco has … filled you in about certain … hobbies … that Snapes and Malfoys have shared for more than a century …'

'The Game. Yes, he told me. He even played for a few months, last year, with Blaise Zabini.'

'Well, with Lucius and me, it went slightly wrong. Horribly wrong, in fact. I was the dominant one, quite easily, I did some terrible things to Lucius … but then something happened. You know the basic idea of the Game?'

Harry nodded.

'Well, one of its main principles was that the players were never to feel any sympathy or affection for the people they tormented. But suddenly I met one … one girl … and she was so perfect … she broke me. I couldn't play after that. Lucius was sympathetic at first, I think he was slightly in awe … but then he began to get … a little annoyed with me for it. Annoyance grew to hatred, and hatred grew to the lust for revenge.

'One day he cornered me … he told me that I was a failure, that everyone hated me. He knew I wanted to die, so he asked me to come with him to Voldemort, to be his sacrifice. I refused. Perhaps Lucius had planned it … I don't know …' Snape's eyes blazed as the memories of what had happened took over his emotions.

'Yes?'

'He forced a liquid down my throat. I didn't realise what it was until I felt my will draining out of me. You found out about this liquid in your first year, Harry. Unicorn blood.'

Harry's skin tingled, and his breath grew short. _Unicorn blood?_ No wonder Snape hated Lucius. _My God …_ 'A half life …'

'Yes.'

'How could he … I don't believe it … but you'll be free of him soon.'

'What?' It seemed that Snape could not manage anything more than single syllables after his uncharacteristic speech.

'Draco's going to kill his father. Not today, but at the final battle. You'll be free …' Harry stopped, because suddenly Snape's face had gone deathly pale, much paler than when he had first seen Lucius in the school.

'He can't … please … he can't do that …'

'What?' Harry asked, confused.

Snape suddenly leaned forward and grabbed the crouching wizard's robes. 'Please, Harry, don't let him kill Lucius. He doesn't have the right … not to kill his own father, Harry, he can't …'

'But I thought you hated Lucius, won't you be pleased once he's gone?'

Snape's face was anything but what Harry expected it to be … relief, happiness, sense of freedom … but instead written in those fine lines were worry and fear … a fear that seemed even greater than when Lucius had slammed open the doors of the Great Hall, a fear deeper and more soul-breaking than anything Harry had ever witnessed. The fear even frightened him.

Then he realised that Snape had not yet answered, and voiced his question again. 'Professor? Won't you be pleased?'

Snape's eyes searched around the dungeon, as if looking for some suspected spy who could hear anything … everything … and report to its master … _Lucius, Snape still needs you, he can't bear to have you killed …_

Then he appeared to decide that there was no one, that the dungeons really were his domain, the place where he was safe. 'No, I won't. I'd really … prefer … if he didn't … die. Please, talk to Draco, Harry. He can't do that.'

Harry studied his teacher cautiously. Snape seemed to be panicking at the thought of losing the man who had just assaulted him, who had broken his wrist and slit his chest open, _I'm a Death Eater, Lucius … _a laugh …_ Bullshit, Severus, you're not and you never really were. I know it, you know it, all the Death Eaters know it._

At that moment, Harry suddenly wanted more than anything to comfort Snape, to release him from his fears and liberate him from the Serpent's domination … he wanted it more than he wanted to hold Draco, to kiss Draco, no, he wanted to help his teacher, the teacher who had once hated him … 

And yet, to stop Draco killing his father would be to let the most notorious Death Eater walk free, for the sake of a few ancient faded emotions, the dark emotions, fear, desire, pain, hate … and love.

Harry knew about love. He knew what it would be to him if Draco was gone – there would be no way he could carry on living, not without the person he loved the most in the whole world … _funny, Draco used to hate me too …_ Perhaps Snape's and Lucius' relationship was slightly different to Harry and Draco's, but it was quite clear that Snape still loved Lucius, if only as a deep bond forged by years of Snapes and Malfoys being together, a love hate relationship, governed by assault and domination and shifts of power, and playing with others. It was clear that Snape needed Lucius.

Slowly Harry nodded. 'Fine, I'll talk to him. I can't guarantee that he'll listen … hell, I don't even understand why you're doing this, why _I'm_ doing this, but I will talk to him.'

'Thank you,' Snape whispered. His eyes were all-consuming in his pale face, eating away at the flesh and consciousness that was his body, presenting a haunted being that lived off the love and hatred bestowed upon him by another person, unable to survive without emotions to feed on, a parasite, a sad and lonely parasite of a creature whose sustenance was twisted and cruel.

_God, what a life … poor Severus, his whole life has been … bullshit._

Then Harry turned and left the dungeon, allowing himself to shudder at this horror only when he had rounded the corner. As the shivers in his body subsided, he felt a terrible yearning for the safety of the Gryffindor common room, where he knew he had friends and where he knew he could find salvation, a desire to run away from this sickening spectacle that was the bruised and injured Snape, a rising nausea …

He began to sprint, instinctively heading for the common room, his feet pounding … or was that his heart? The beats faded … going … going … gone, and Harry sank down onto the floor, weaker than a lamb and unable to move as he succumbed to total and utter exhaustion.

*****

Draco felt the cold sweat on Harry that night, and raised his eyebrows curiously at this taste of wintry salt on his lover's neck. 'Are you all right?'

Harry rose from his side of the bed in the small room they had found in the depths of the castle, and walked to the end of it, pulling on a dressing gown. 'Draco, I have to talk to you.'

'That doesn't sound good … the words of the beginning of the end of any relationship, Harry, _we need to talk_.' Draco's tone was jokey, but Harry could sense his unease. He really did love Harry … he didn't want to lose him, not now.

'No, it's not about us, Draco, it's about … about your father.'

'My father?' Suddenly Draco's eyes were narrow, his tone cold and unforgiving as it always was now when he spoke of Lucius.

'Did he see you this evening?'

'Yes … I made sure it was the last time, I said my farewells and everything. He didn't look too happy … he almost had me convinced that it was his worst nightmare to die by his son's hand.'

'Perhaps it is, Draco,' Harry replied gently.

Draco considered this for a moment. 'Do you suppose he loves me, Harry?'

Harry did not answer this. 'Snape loves him,' he said matter-of-factly.

'What? You're joking! Snape, and my father? What a …' Draco's eyes widened in horror. 'The Game. He never told me what happened, though.'

'Well, it seems that your father despises Snape. And I'm sure Snape hates Lucius … on the surface. Lucius assaulted Snape in his office today. While I was doing detention.'

'He … he … my god. He didn't _rape _him, did he?'

'I don't think so … but he broke his wrist and gave him a massive gash all the way down here.' Harry gestured to his body. 'Anyway, I talked to him afterwards, and I was trying to reassure him, you know? I told him that you were going to kill Lucius.'

'That's good news for him, I expect.'

'No, no, that's the point, Draco. He went mad, he kept saying "he can't, he can't" and he was really pale and everything. I really think he doesn't want you to kill him. And he asked me to ask you not to … he definitely loves him, Draco, if only in a twisted, affection-starved way. I think you might well kill him … Lucius gave him unicorn blood in their seventh year. He doesn't have much of a will to live, as it is your father may have been Snape's worst enemy, but he's his closest companion, too. The bond between Malfoys and Snapes goes back over a century – you know that. Please don't kill him, Draco. Not yet.'

Draco almost involuntarily glanced downwards, eyes seeming to seek out the dungeons, to claim testimony from Snape, to confirm that this was true. 'Harry – this is between my father and me. Snape has nothing to do with it, he probably doesn't even understand half of it -'

'Believe me, Draco, he knows your father a lot better than you do!' Harry snapped.

'How do you know that? He hasn't seen my father since they were at school together, I know that much.'

'But Snape knew him when he was growing up. He knows the sort of man Lucius grew into.'

'If they were such good friends at school, why does my father hate Snape now?'

Harry related to Draco what Snape had told him, his voice wavering dangerously when he reached the part about the unicorn blood. He could not suppress another shudder at this point, but he was almost glad of it – it added dramatic and emotional effect to his whole narrative.

Draco listened reluctantly, only really accepting what was being said because it was coming from his lover. At the end he frowned. 'Did Snape tell you who that woman was? The one who made him fall?'

Harry thought back to the conversation of earlier that evening … no, looking at the clock, it was yesterday evening … had Snape told him? 'No, he just said she was perfect. I didn't think to ask.'

The blonde boy's eyes flickered, and Harry was certain for a moment that Draco knew something he didn't. Or at least he suspected something. Did he know who the woman was? 'Draco? You don't have any idea, do you?'

'No, of course not,' Draco replied quickly, but Harry knew he was lying, he could see it in the young man's grey wintry eyes, the eyes that betrayed how like his father he was, deep down, inside, he had the same ruthless power, the power to lie to get what he wanted, the power to equivocate and tell half-truths. Draco suspected, but Draco wouldn't tell him.

'Fine. When you want to tell me, Draco, I'll be waiting. In the meantime, I forbid you to kill Lucius. Is that understood?' Harry's voice had sunk to the authoritative tone he usually used during Order meetings. It saddened him that he had been forced to use this authority over his lover, but he knew enough of the Game to know that Draco's blood, his very essence, were still tied to it, and he could still play.

Draco's face was one of fury as he searched desperately for an opening to counter the order. But he knew that Harry had the power to do what he did now, and the power to go to Dumbledore and accuse him of being a traitor. Yes, the two loved each other, but there was a war being fought, and Harry was at the head of it. He would do his job.

Eventually Draco nodded. 'Understood. I'm going back to my dormitory. See you in the morning.' He dragged on his pyjamas, making sure that Harry did not glimpse any flesh below his waist, and then slipped on his silk night robe over it and strode from the room.

Harry flung himself back onto the bed and pummelled the pillows in frustration. He had hoped at least that Draco would have seen sense and told Harry his suspicions about who this mystery lady had been. Did she still exist, was she alive? Perhaps it was Draco's own mother, and Draco did not want to compromise her reputation. But perhaps not.

Eventually he drifted off to sleep, not caring that he would have to return to the dormitory tomorrow in full view of his schoolmates, with their questions about where he had been the previous night, _ooh, the Boy who Lived has a girlfriend, what a lucky girl she must be …_ How little they knew. _The Boy who Lived is GAY? He can't be, he's a hero …_

Bullshit.

*****

A/N: Please tell me what you think of this chapter … it's all in the master plan, so I can't really change anything, but I would REALLY appreciate a review or two, coz I love them!


	3. Runup

A/N: Well, I don't have much to say, so let's just crack on with the story, shall we?

*****

WINTER EYES, WINTER HEART

Chapter 3

Draco went to see Snape the next morning, after breakfast. The professor was teaching a class, but immediately called in Flitwick by Floo to sit with them when he caught sight of Draco in his doorway. Evidently the fear of Draco's father extended down to Draco himself, in spite of the fact that Draco hated Lucius.

Snape was looking quite the worse for wear that morning. He had a small bandage on his wrist, and various plasters covered the few patches of skin that were visible. Draco's father had certainly done the job thoroughly. 

Snape took Draco into his office and through a hidden door behind a painting, which Draco realised rather quickly led to Snape's rooms.

'I'm sorry to take you here, Draco, but I do not want anybody to hear us.'

_Strange, he shuns the idea of sex … except with _him_ …_

One nod from the boy certified that he understood, and he strode after Snape, his body remembering the lessons his father had given him …_ serpentine, beautiful … perfect._

Snape's rooms were large but sparsely furnished. There were tapestries all around the room, presumably to keep in the warmth, and only a four-poster bed, a mahogany wardrobe, table and chairs, and, down one wall, a huge bookshelf.

Draco took one look around and nodded. This suited Snape. It was exactly the sort of room Draco had expected him to occupy. 'That's all right, I don't expect you to do anything to me …' He managed a small smile. 'Professor, why weren't you at breakfast today?'

Snape looked at him, searching his face. 'I am assuming Harry related our conversation of yesterday evening to you.'

'Yes.'

'I'm sure you can understand that I didn't want to see your father. Has he left, by the way?'

Draco shook his head. 'He's trying to convince Dumbledore to let him stay. He's defying Harry … I _really_ wouldn't do that if I were him.' He shuddered slightly. 

'Nor would I. Harry doesn't think he's all that powerful, but I believe he can be quite formidable at times.'

'Yes. So … you were hiding from my father, then?'

'I was. In Dumbledore's office. It's the only place Lucius can't force his way into … Harry's not the only one who's formidable at times.'

Draco watched Snape curiously. The professor almost seemed to be _proud_ of his former partner's power. The same power that could, last night, have had him killed. Snape's eyes almost seemed to glow as they spoke of Lucius – partly with anger and fear, but also with something else, something … softer.' 

'Anyway … I understand that you do not want me to … destroy my father. At the final battle.' Suddenly Draco's Malfoy qualities were gone, and he could no longer speak smoothly and charm with it. He felt a peculiar need to distance himself from his father, since it was his life they were discussing … _what a terrible place the world has come to when a simple conversation can determine whether a human being is to live or die. Die. In death. I have my father's eyes … perhaps I'm more like him than I thought, the same winter eyes … but do I have a winter heart? Bullshit._ He hoped.

'Have you ever killed anyone, Draco?'

Draco flinched. This was a weak spot for him – his father would be the first person he had ever murdered, if it turned out that way. He knew he couldn't feel proud of it.

'Well … it isn't a pleasant experience, despite how much you may hate the person, and contrary to what anyone may tell you, it is not an achievement. I think you don't want to be burdened with the guilt of taking someone's life essence from them … even if the victim is wholly evil.'

'If my father is wholly evil,' Draco snapped, 'then _why_ don't you want me to kill him?'

'Because … because …' Snape looked away, flushing slightly. 'Because I still love him.'

'Even though he did _that_ to you?' Draco pointed at Snape's battered body.

'Don't ask me to explain it, Draco. All I know is … I don't think I can live without him. We were partners once. In a way, we still are; the bond between Snapes and Malfoys cannot be broken. Just one person came between us. That's the reason I'm here, wasting my life trapped in a castle.'

'This girl you fell in love with? Harry mentioned her. You didn't tell him who it was.'

'I don't plan to, Draco. I don't think Harry would like it, somehow.'

_Harry … what wouldn't he like? He's a Gryffindor, a knight. Insults to his friends? Family? Family … family … Lily Evans. _'Ohhhh,' Draco said softly. 'It was his mother.'

Snape nodded. 'She was amazing at school,' he said with a regretful smile. 'I think she could have charmed Dumbledore into allying with Voldemort. If she'd been so inclined. Anyway … I think you know the rest of they story. Am I to trust you to spare Lucius? Or will we see blood at the final battle?'

Draco considered. He supposed that, although a little more twisted, Snape's love for Lucius was nothing different to his own for Harry. Under the romance of the boys' relationship lay a desperate need to be held and wanted, a need for affection in the lonely world they inhabited. For Snape, the need would be strong and raw, without the softening romance, and he would bear so much more anguish. 

'All right,' Draco said slowly. 'I won't kill him, for now. But it depends what he does. If he hurts you, or Harry, then he's as good as dead. I don't care what you say, I'm not going to let _that_ piece of filth kill someone I hold dear.'

Snape snorted. 'Hold dear? Then you can leave me out of it. I don't think I'm "held dear" by anybody, quite frankly.'

'You are by me. And Dumbledore,' Draco replied quietly. Then he added: 'And Harry.'

Snape blushed, his sallow skin surprisingly attractive when the cold mask did not drink his blood. His dark eyes were confused but determined, and Draco felt something stir between his legs. _Don't be stupid, Draco. You can't do that. You're Harry's. Snape belongs to your father, even if you don't like it. Besides, he's _far_ too old for you._

'I think that's all,' he announced curtly. 'Until this afternoon's lesson, then.' He did not even wait for Snape's answer or nod, instead turning and striding from the room. He was forced, of course, to go back through the potions laboratory, and kept his head down as he wove through the riotous third-years.

_Oh, if Flitwick could control a class._

*****

When Harry found out that Lucius was still in Hogwarts, and trying to persuade Dumbledore to let him stay, he went straight to find the Death Eater. MacGonagall informed him, with a very curled lip, that His Majesty was in the staff room, insulting the staff. 

Harry passed Madam Hooch on his way there, walking with her nose held high and a sour expression. 'Lucius Malfoy?' he commented, and then remembered he wasn't God _(what a joke)_, and added: 'Professor?'

'That – man!' exclaimed Madam Hooch indignantly. 'He's acting like he owns the damn school, Harry. Dumbledore said you were going to throw him out, why is he still here?'

'That's what I'm going to ask him right now,' Harry replied grimly. He left the teacher, and walked a little faster toward the staff room. Things were getting out of hand – Lucius could not be permitted to act like this. Especially after he was supposed to have left.

Harry found that despite his slight apprehensions, he in fact had no trouble in storming straight into the staff room. Professor Vector was reading, having obviously chosen a seat as far away from Lucius as possible, and was occasionally casting anxious glances at him under her dark eyelashes.

She was frightened. Like everyone else in the school – and this time without the exception of Dumbledore – she was afraid of Lucius Malfoy. And this only angered Harry further.

'Lucius!' he yelled.

Lucius started, appearing to have only just noticed Harry. 'You're not supposed to be in here,' he remarked with the smug satisfaction of a five-year-old.

'Neither,' Harry replied coolly, 'are you.' He looked at Vector meaningfully, and she took the hint and left the room with a grateful smile.

'I decided to stay for a few days longer, Harry.'

_As if it was his choice!_ 'I'm afraid, Lucius, that we're cutting your holiday down to a few more minutes. You _are_ leaving now, whether you like it or not. And leave Snape and Draco alone. I'm not afraid of a simple Avada Kedavra, you know.'

'Rather you than -' Lucius cut himself off sharply, and bit his lip.

'Rather me than Draco?' Harry asked with false sympathy.

Suddenly Lucius looked slightly less sure of himself. 'What do you mean?'

'You don't like the idea, do you?' _Would anyone like the idea of dying? By his own son's hand? What a joke._ 'You're scared of Draco killing me.'

'I've never done anything to him,' Lucius said hotly, half rising out of his armchair. 'I raised him as a Slytherin son. The same way most Slytherin parents raise their children.'

'You didn't give him any choice. You would have forced him to join Voldemort. No wonder he's rebelled; he doesn't want to serve the Dark Lord. He's never coming home, you know. Not now.'

Lucius regarded Harry, and the sadness in his face was genuine. 'I've lost my son,' he whispered.

'Very good, Lucius. Your own fault, of course.' Harry smirked. 'See you at the final battle.' He turned to leave, his eyes like steel globes in their sockets. Had they ever been so unrelenting? He had just deprived Lucius of the most important thing in his life, hadn't he? _Snape …_ Hadn't he?

'Oh, and Harry?' Lucius' voice was taunting and strong again, and Harry reverted to his alert, stony-eyed state. 'About the final battle. We know we're going to lose. We've known for years. Now, it's just a question of who we take down with us.' His winter eyes were suddenly sincere, alight with anticipation of the massive dispute yet to come. 'Expect us on the last day of term, Harry. We _will _come for you.'

_He would have made an interesting Gryffindor._

'You have five minutes to get out, Lucius.'

*****

The Boy Who Lived spent his Transfiguration lesson thinking very carefully about what had just happened. It had been a strange meeting. Lucius had just told him straight out when the final battle would be, and this confused Harry. Why would he have revealed Voldemort's most closely guarded secret, deliberately? There seemed no rhyme or reason for it, no hidden bribe or deceit that Harry could fathom. What if they came earlier? Hogwarts had been ready for them for months. And Lucius' visit must have confirmed that they knew that.

Perhaps he had let it out accidentally? But Harry dismissed this thought immediately, shook his head and drew McGonagall's attention.

'Harry, stop fidgeting.' Her voice was straining to be hard, to be stern, but Harry could hear the weakness, in the way she said 'Harry' rather than 'Potter,' in the slight softness of her voice. They had a common enemy now, Voldemort, Malfoy and the Slytherin serpents. And this included Snape. With a weakness for Lucius, could he be depended on to hold true to Hogwarts and its cause?

That was a problem. Harry's mind started to spin onto 'What ifs,' _what if he betrays us, what if it comes to crunch time and he lets them go? What if he turns? What if he has mercy on Lucius and gets killed by one of them?_

Was Snape capable of doing that? Harry thought again of the resolute but troubled Potions Master, so many conflicting loyalties, and the tendency still ingrained in him to seduce and destroy. He was perfectly capable of tricking Hogwarts if the intention overpowered him. Those eyes hid more than they spoke of.

The last day of term … that was only days away. Three days. Lessons were drifting into half-hearted vague discussions, homework was slowly dissolving. Soon the seventh-years would be free. Out of the school, alone and independent to do their own bidding within the world of wizardry. Harry's heart leapt at the thought of this as much as it sank, and consequently remained fairly still. He would not be able to see Draco any more. There was no way they could meet, assuming the final battle, despite its name, came to the conclusion of the inevitable stalemate.

We know we're going to lose … Lucius' words. 

Perhaps this really was it.

*****

Harry realised on his way to Dumbledore's office that his visit was shamefully overdue. He had met with Lucius more than two hours ago now, and still the Order of the Phoenix did not know the day of the battle. Three days. Seventy-two hours. Less. _Harry, what were you thinking?_

The Headmaster seemed suspiciously to have been waiting for him. Suddenly wary, Harry's face shifted into a half-smile, and back again. He knew everything. Probably about Draco and him, probably about Snape, about … well, everything.

Dumbledore greeted him genially, but Harry could tell that he was waiting for him to give. 

'We don't have much time, Harry. Am I right?'

'They're coming on Friday, sir. That's three days. Are we ready?'

'Are you?'

Harry frowned ostentatiously. 'Sir?'

'We're ready only if you are. Are you ready to destroy, Harry? You're the Boy Who Lived; you can't escape. You will be expected to kill, to take away lives. To use the killing curse. To be ready to sacrifice those you love …'

Of course he knew.

'Are you ready for this, Harry?'

'I …' Harry stopped. Once more, everything that Dumbledore had said was true. This would be the first time he had killed anyone. He might lose people. The students would be evacuated, except Draco, and Snape would be there. So would all his other teachers. Harry could not name a single name of a person whose soul he would not weep over. He loved them all. And he loved his school, in danger of being completely destructed through the evil of war. Voldemort wanted rid of Hogwarts; it was the source of the resistance against him.

Was he ready for it?

'Sir,' he said quietly, 'you're asking me to be ready to lose everything I love, to be ready to be left with nothing. I do not believe a single person on earth could be ready for that.'

'I know,' Dumbledore replied. 'But you have acknowledged the danger, and you are determined to take steps to prevent it. This is more ready than many of us are – living in fear, hiding from the worry, running from the possibility that we might …'

'Betray everything we thought we cared for?'

The Headmaster smiled. 'You too have considered it. Have you spoken to the relevant man?'

'I'd only offend him, sir. I don't dare.' Harry lowered his head in defeat. There was no option of trying to talk Snape out of it: he simply had not the courage.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. 'Perhaps,' he suggested with false gentleness and underlying warning, 'I was wrong. You seem not to be frightened enough – at least, not enough to forfeit your security to save our lives. I suggest you think very hard about that, Harry – and very fast.'

Harry regarded him, but somehow the ancient wizard was giving off a finished scent, a vibration of conclusion. He had ended.

Without another word, the Boy Who Lived rose and began the long walk from the tower down to the dungeons.

*****

A/N: Yes, its slightly timeliney, but the necessary events have taken place. The next chapter _should_ be the final battle – it's going to turn out a shorter story than I had intended. Only four chapters. Sigh. Well, more time to work on my original slash story, I suppose. Please review! There are still some loose ends that could depend on public opinion, so your vote really DOES count!


	4. The End

A/N: Ok, I think this is going to be the last chapter but one. I would love to get some more response to this story, seeing as I've spent quite a lot of time and effort on it.

*****

WINTER EYES, WINTER HEART  
  


Chapter 4

PART ONE

It was Thursday. Dumbledore, in his newfound state of worried activity, had managed to pack all the students off home – or at least to Diagon Alley – within a day and a half, and now everyone still at the school was left to prepare for Voldemort's attack. Aurors arrived from around the country, although the Ministry was careful to make sure other wizarding administrative centres were left defended.

Harry and Draco had spent the night together for what they agreed would be the last time until after the attack, and woke up to find the silence of Hogwarts frighteningly oppressive. The walls seemed to loom over their heads; the paintings were remaining tactfully quiet, not wishing to disturb the workers. Not that any of the wizards would have noticed. They were all hurrying about with heads bent and brows furrowed, trying desperately to push down their rising panic enough to complete their tasks.

_It's the waiting that kills you._

Harry was beginning to understand why Lucius had told them the date of the attack. Without any specific information, Hogwarts could remain pleasantly ignorant of the impending danger, less defended but at better peace of mind. With a fixed appointment to risk his life, though, every professional wizard in the country had gone into overdrive. They weren't eating. They weren't sleeping. The worry and fear was quite simply driving them crazy.

_It's the waiting that kills you._

'At least we'll be able to spend more time alone,' Draco had commented wryly to Harry when they noticed the empty state of the castle. Harry had raised an eyebrow at this. _Bullshit, Draco. You're bullshitting. Don't you understand what's going to happen? Tomorrow, you're going to find out whether you live or die. Whether _I_ live or die. Whether your father lives or dies. And things will never be the same again._

Snape was drawing scores of insults from the Ministry wizards simply because he did not seem to be doing very much. Of course, no one could explain to them what was wrong with him; Dumbledore explained his inactivity by claiming that he was ill, and after that people left him alone.

Along with the Headmaster, Harry and Draco were the only people not fooled.

_Every day, every hour, he grows closer and closer to the possibility that he's going to have to murder the man he loves. He doesn't know what Lucius is thinking. He doesn't know which vein runs stronger in him: the passion to destroy the Light side, or the love for Snape. He knows that Lucius is probably deliberating on it right now, deciding what he's going to be true to. What happens if Lucius wants to kill him? Will he be able to bring himself to fight back? Is he going to surrender like he's done before? You think losing Draco in the fighting would be hard, Harry. You think that you would feel so guilty because you hadn't been able to save him. Can you imagine how that guilt would have multiplied if _you_ had been the one who dispatched him? To kill Draco … to stab yourself in the eye._

Unfortunately for Harry and Draco, there did not seem to be anything that they could do to help the wizarding war effort. The Aurors, and the various other wizards and witches in the castle, were insisting that Harry Potter get his rest, that the Great Harry Potter must be strong and fresh for the stressful day that awaited him. And perhaps his … accomplice (_goodness gracious, is that a _Malfoy?_ Well, I suppose, if you say he's trustworthy … dear me, a Malfoy, on our side? And I never thought I'd see the day …_)

So the half-men were condemned to spend a whole day without diversion or deviation to take them away from the bare, raw fact that this was the last time they might be able to spend together. Sex did not seem appropriate. _If the general had gotten laid on his battlefield …_

Eventually Draco suggested the possibility of going to see Snape, to try to comfort him. Harry agreed, and the two of them went slowly down to the dungeons, past the dozens of wizard workers … and into an empty laboratory.

Snape was quite clearly not there. The Hissing Potion was inactive, the one he always kept hot now when he was alone, to comfort him. The dungeon was dark, and there was a foul smell in the heavy air that Harry immediately identified as 'the essence of darkness.'

'How,' asked Draco, 'did you know that? That's exactly what I was thinking … darkness.'

'I think,' Harry said gravely, 'that we're about to find out.'

It did not take them long to trace the smell to Snape's office, where they found the floor covered in fragments of glass, and a silvery, seeping sort of liquid …

'Unicorn blood.' They said it together, instinctively seeking out each other's hands for comfort. 

'Draco …' Harry's unspoken plea of many weeks slipped onto his lips now, begging Draco to hold him, not to kiss him or touch him in any romantically intimate way, but simply to be there, to allow him to feel safe.

Draco reached up and rested his hand on the back of Harry's neck, drawing him closer. 'Shhh, Harry …' Then the arms were there, strong, tight, never letting go, never relenting or weakening.

'Thank you,' Harry sighed.

'Harry, Harry, Harry …' Draco's voice was growing softer, but Harry could both hear and feel the sob that was beginning in that mantra. 'How is this to end?'

'I don't know, my love. I'm afraid I haven't a clue.'

Then they stood together as the essence of darkness watched them, calculated and took mercy, decided not to claim the souls of these people as it had claimed the soul of Severus Snape.

*****

PART TWO

Neither of them knew how long they remained in each other's arms. But it was Harry who finally drew back and bit his lip. 'Well, do we still want to find Snape?'

'Yes. He needs people now. People who will love him without the darkness.' Draco was worried that his words might be a response to the forbidden tug between his legs that he had felt earlier in the week for Snape, but luckily his voice learned from his sub consciousness and made the words honest, respectful, earnest.

'Then I suggest we go … Draco, I don't think we've had Snape completely right. I think we've underestimated him.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well … after Snape told me about his schooldays, I thought of him as a sort of weak, clinging person who had suffered a huge amount of pain and couldn't quite bring himself to forget about it. To forget his feelings that he thought might be true. Like if we broke up, I might think I was over it, and everyone would tell me that I was over it, but I would never be over you, Draco. I would always hold on … even if you died tomorrow, and … oh, Gods … and I knew you were dead, I'd still hold on to the feelings I have for you. And they would stay with me forever.

'I'd always assumed that Snape was the same. That he just couldn't do it, when he knew Lucius was still there, and there was still a possibility that he would come back. But I think … there's more to it.' He slid his hand into Draco's again, and held it tight. 'Snape lives in a different world to us. I think the unicorn blood took something from him, the ability to feel any sort of pleasure – physical or emotional. I think he can only feel the dark emotions – you know, fear, hatred, pain, anger … Perhaps he only feels pleasure as a suspension of pain.'

Draco regarded him, his face impressed at Harry's long speech. 'No pleasure … only pain. _Luithior, y'thraquii_.'

'What?'

A smile appeared on Draco's face, but it did not reach his eyes. He gave a bitter laugh, and Harry's heart leapt in horror. 'My father taught that to me as a motto. He said he lived his life by it. I never understood what it meant. Oh, my God … Snape's living in hell.' He thought for a few seconds, his face intent, and then turned and pulled Harry from the dungeon, pulled him all the way to the forgotten part of the third floor.

Harry gasped when he saw the door. He had almost forgotten about this place. Last year, when Draco had played the Game … a memory flicked up into his mind …

He stood outside, his heart racing, wanting so much to possess the courage everyone wished him to possess, wanting to be able to push open the door and beat Draco, to kill him for hurting Hermione the way he had … and yet, how could he hurt Draco, after the months he had spent desiring him? He loved Draco … and yet he hated him. He could hear Draco kissing someone – he suspected it was Blaise Zabini – and he could hear the other boy's gasps of delight and pleasure … What a Game to be playing at such an age.

He froze. 'Draco, why have you brought me here?'

'This is where the Malfoys and Snapes have always operated from,' Draco replied carefully. 

He knows I'm sensitive to it … to any mention of his former barbarity, his former … half-soul. 

'Where my father and Snape worked; where I worked.' Stealthily, with the Malfoy felinity, he depressed the handle on the door, then opened it and peered in.

Harry pushed in next to Draco and stared into the darkness until the light filtered in from behind them.

Snape sat on a wooden table with a fraying cushion in his arms. The torchlight from the corridor reflected the tears on his cheeks, and he was rocking slowly back and forth.

Draco seemed content to watch Snape forever, to bask in his anguish, but to Harry the sight was unbearable, and he slipped past Draco and went to sit with Snape. The man jumped when he heard the noise, but when he saw Harry he quietened and sighed. 'Do you need me?'

'No, no,' Harry assured him. 'We just – well, we were worried …'

'We?' Snape turned, and saw Draco at the door. His voice took on a bitter tone. 'Of course – savouring the last moments before war, together. Quite understandable.'

Out of pure instinct, Harry put an arm around Snape's shoulders. 'You don't feel happiness, do you? You can't.'

Snape looked at him shrewdly. 'You know, then.'

'We worked it out,' Harry replied.

'Luithior, y'thraquii.'

'Luithior, y'thraquii,' Draco repeated.

No pleasure, only pain.

'Do you know,' Snape said a little contritely, but the heaviness still in his voice, 'I feel sorry for unicorns. They live on that blood.'

Harry smiled sadly, astonished that Snape could still think of anything but his own misery. Although it's not irrelevant to his misery, I suppose.

'It will be all right, you know,' Harry told him quietly. 'Whatever happens, it'll be for the best.'

'I can't decide, Harry. I can't decide what I'm going to do. I want to fight with him, alongside him – I can't imagine trying to counter his moves – but I can't betray this place. I can't kill him, and I don't want anyone else to, either. But – I'm not happy with him alive. He brings out all the emotions I could possibly feel, all at the same time. I can't deal with that, not in one man. I do love him. Hell, I'd probably sleep with him, if he asked me. But I can't be happy with him … and I think he knows it. That's why he's turned on me. Because I turned on him. When I fell in love.'

The Boy Who Lived considered. He knew that as a patriot, and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he should tell Snape to ignore his feelings and to fight against Lucius, whatever the cost. He also knew that Snape would definitely be better off without Lucius. But somehow, every emotion he had as a lover, everything he felt for Draco stopped him saying it.

'Professor …'

'Oh, call me Severus, Harry. After all, term's ended … you're free. You'll never study at Hogwarts again. I'm not your teacher any more.'

Harry stared at him. With all the worrying about the final battle, the brazen truth of this had neglected to stare him in the face … until now. Suddenly huge, unbearably strong sobs rose up in his throat, and he buried his face in Snape's shoulder. 'Not – Hogwarts,' he cried. 'Don't take it away … it's gone, it's all gone, I'll never be able to stay here again … why did it have to end like this? Why does Voldemort ruin everything?'

Quite unexpectedly he felt Draco's lips touch his neck from behind him, and he threw himself on his lover, kissed his mouth, tried desperately to let himself die, there and then, to be rid of it all.

'Harry, Draco!' Snape's voice sounded cold and stern, the blessed tone of Potions lessons, and Harry and Draco looked at him, yearned for the old ways. 'Stop that. We need to pull ourselves together and start preparing ourselves. I …' he faltered, 'I may not be the best judge, but I think we should do something. Do you know how to perform Avada Kedavra?'

The two boys shook their heads. Draco looked suddenly scared. This is what he wants to do, Harry thought. He wants to be rid of his father … but he can't bear to defy Severus and me. Perform the curse, indeed – he makes it sound like a play.

'Then come with me, and I'll show you.'

*****

The rest of that day passed surprisingly quickly, and by the end of it Harry and Draco both felt much better. They were ready for battle. They knew Avada Kedavra; they were well versed in lesser curses and how to block them. They knew what to do if surrounded. They had been informed about the ringleaders of the Death Eaters, which of them were the most powerful, which of them would probably be an easy target. All they needed now was a decent night's sleep.

It was perhaps just as well that Snape forced the two to spend the night apart – Draco was to sleep in the same room as him, and Harry was to stay in his dormitory, with his godfather. Neither passed an easy night.

*****

At six o'clock, they were both woken and taken to the Great Hall, where the Aurors were in the middle of a briefing. Harry was told to 'use his connection with Voldemort to his advantage, if he could,' and Draco was told 'not to get too close to his father, in case he tried to make him turn.' Harry was assigned to the second floor, Draco to the third, and they were taken to their posts by Cornelius Fudge, who ruffled their hair jovially and tried to pretend over his white face and shaking voice that they were completely safe. 

At eleven forty-five, just as Harry was beginning to think he had been mistaken, they came.

*****

PART THREE

Harry was not involved in much of the battle; he merely received short reports from Dumbledore every ten minutes that they were steadily gaining the advantage. He did not mention Draco, and Harry did not ask. He did not want to be told.

The Death Eaters' war plan seemed to be to use a 'buddy system,' and so they went about in twos and threes, one by one running into an Auror or one of the teachers, and falling. Voldemort had apparently made no appearance yet; even while they fought, the Light wizards were holding their breath.

The first time Harry used the killing curse was on McNair, who managed to storm past his hiding place with Avery without even seeing him. Before either Death Eater had time to cry out, they were both dead.

Severus had warned Draco and Harry that there could be some strange side effects from using Avada Kedavra, but as long as their hearts and minds remained strong, they should be fine. Harry wondered if the violent shaking he was experiencing was one of these 'side effects.' But his thoughts were busy with Draco, memories of kisses long past, memories of declarations of love, perfect embraces …

Without warning, the blackness came. It was as if a blind had suddenly been closed in Harry's mind; he sank to the ground as oblivion enveloped him. He was vaguely aware of feet running past him, and a lingeringly familiar laugh, but could not process the thoughts enough to find what they meant. Side effects, his inner consciousness snorted, and then faded. After trying to shake his head, and finding that he was no longer in control of his body, Harry realised that all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat. Then that too faded, and he was alone.

Huge shapes were looming in the darkness, but the world of nothing he was in was simply an absence of light. These figures were dark, pure dark, and pure evil, and every one of them was pointing long, utterly black fingers at him. Murderer, they whispered, and Harry cowered in his spirit.

Perhaps I should let myself die … how could I have taken those lives? They didn't deserve this, Voldemort forced them … yes, I should sacrifice myself too … Let me die, let me –

And then Severus was grasping his shirt, was pulling him up and slapping his face and dragging him until Harry found the will to put his feet on the floor and run with him. 'Quick!' Snape hissed. 'The third floor – the room­, Lucius is there, and Draco.'

'Draco's alive?' Harry exclaimed, and ran with Severus, throwing blasts of energy behind him to speed him on his way to the terrible room where so much pain had been dealt, but where his lover now fought.

Harry and Severus burst into the room to find Lucius just inside the doorway, turned away from them. He was watching Draco, across the room. Both Malfoys looked unreservedly terrified.

'Severus,' Lucius greeted coldly, his face shifting. 'I was wondering when you'd show up to rescue my son. And Harry, too … good afternoon.'

'Rescue?' Harry retorted in answer. 'You couldn't kill Draco if you tried. You're a coward.' He looked at Severus in apology, hoping that he would not be offended at this insult to his former lover.

Lucius glared at him, and then raised his wand, levelling it straight at Draco. The boy's face grew pale, and he started to tremble. For almost a minute Lucius kept his wand their, but his face grew increasingly troubled, and eventually he lowered it, letting his arm drop to his side.

Harry started across the room to Draco, but froze when his lover leapt forward, drawing his wand and pointing it directly between his father's eyes. 'I hate you,' he whispered, with fire in his eyes. Then he looked at Snape, the regret only just visible over the surface of the fury. 'Sorry. This has to be done.'

Harry also glanced at Severus. The man's face was strangely calm and unemotional as he looked slowly between father and son. He's accepted it, Harry thought. He knows Lucius has to die.

'Avada Kedav -'

'Stop.' The voice rang out clear and powerful, an angel.

Harry's head snapped to Severus, and he felt the blood drain from his face. Severus' wand was aimed directly at Harry.

'You take my lover,' Severus said, as quiet as death, 'and I shall take yours.' An intensely strong purpose was in the restraint of his body, and Harry's eyes travelled back to Draco, who was staring open-mouthed at his former teacher.

'Snape?' he whispered in disbelief. Then, 'Harry?'

'Do it, Draco,' Harry ordered. 'Kill him. Don't worry about me. Kill him.'

Draco did not move.

'DO IT!'

Draco shook his head determinedly, and lowered his wand. Snape's wand stayed where it was.

He'll kill me if Draco doesn't let Lucius go … do I mean as much to Draco as that?

Then there was a loud crash, and the four of them started. None of them said a word as they all looked to the rubble in the doorway, where stood Sirius, Remus, Fudge and Dumbledore. The Headmaster's eyes raked over the room, taking in the situation. Then he announced: 'Voldemort is dead. I suggest you give yourself up, Lucius.'

Lucius' eyes widened, and he nodded pathetically, dropping his wand on the floor. Sirius and Remus strode to him and grabbed his arms, tying them to their wrists, and then began to drag him across the room. Lucius walked with them easily, but cast a glance back at Severus. For Harry, the glance told him everything, and there was an unspoken plea … Severus, don't leave me, come with me … Severus' face also betrayed his longing to follow Lucius … he threw his wand down, and suddenly Harry knew what he had to do. He cleared his throat, and Moony and Padfoot stopped, turned so they and Lucius could see.

'Severus Snape,' Harry addressed the man, 'you are under arrest for treason to the world of wizardry, and for acting as an accomplice to Lucius Malfoy. You're both in this together, and you're going together.'

Severus' face was unreadable, and he went straight to Lucius, where Remus and Sirius tied the two men's wrists together. As they walked out of Hogwarts, Harry saw Lucius glance at Severus with gratitude and love beyond the sky, saw the two men's hands lock together. He grasped Draco's hand serenely. Winter eyes, winter heart … bullshit.

FIN

*****

A/N: Um … reviews? Please?

(Oh, and ignore the REALLY obvious quote, Catherine will know where it's from, I suspect.)

Thanks to the random anonymous person (people?) who did review this story, it was much appreciated. Goodbye!


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